Leadership with a smile

Published 4:00 am, Wednesday, August 25, 1999

1999-08-25 04:00:00 PDT SAN FRANCISCO -- He hugged a third-grade girl who sobbed, "I want my mommy." He negotiated a truce between boys after one told the other, "Your head was in a toaster, and that's how you got so black." And, just when he thought he could relax and drink chocolate milk with students, he discovered the milk's expiration date - June 11.

Ah, a relaxing first day of school for a first-time principal. From 7 a.m. Tuesday, when Johnnie Spearmon walked the perimeter of Leonard R. Flynn Elementary School looking for gritty detritus such as mattresses left by the homeless, until 6 p.m., when he headed home to his own 6-year-old, the day was marked by pleading parents, energetic kids and piles of paperwork. It was also brightened by the shy smiles and hugs from students in pristine school uniforms.

A day in the life of a principal confirms one thing: The task of leading a public school has never been harder.

The affable Spearmon, 50, with a wide smile and deep baritone, welcomed more than 500 students and parents at this Outer Mission school. As he walked from class to class, he delivered pep talks and listened to student, parent and teacher concerns. He was equal parts preacher, parent, teacher, friend and foe.

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"I took this job because I love kids and it's a place to be a mentor and a leader," said Spearmon, a veteran teacher of reading and special education who most recently taught reading at Visitacion Valley Elementary School. "I never felt like I would be a principal. The school district has given me a great opportunity to do something positive."

Something positive happened around every corner of the 52,700-square-foot building on Cesar Chavez Street. After greeting families and kids and leading them in the Pledge of Allegiance, he spotted Shereen Jildeh, 8, who was standing by herself, crying. Guiding her to a bench, Spearmon confided, "It's my first day here, too." Shereen brightened a bit, wiping her wet lashes. "Both of us are new, and this place is pretty big. We'll find our way around together," Spearmon said.

From there he walked her to her third-grade classroom and introduced her to classmates and the teacher. On the way, though, Spearmon was stopped by parents who made a variety of heartfelt requests. Their child is in the wrong classroom. The teacher doesn't speak Spanish. The teacher only speaks Spanish. The child prefers another teacher.

Spearmon listened patiently, all the while keeping his eyes on Shereen, who was never far from his lanky side. He told parents the same thing. In 10 days, according to district policy, reassignments can be processed.

"Ten days sounds OK," shrugged Douglas Argueta, who asked Spearmon to move his son, Olfis, to a class with a Spanish-speaking teacher.

Once Shereen had tucked her Bugs Bunny backpack into a cubicle and was seated and dry-eyed, Spearmon strode to another class. In the hallway, a teacher approached and said he was short four chairs. Spearmon made a note on a clipboard - a device as essential as his rubber sole shoes.

At Leonard R. Flynn, which draws students from the Mission, Bayview and Bernal Heights neighborhoods, 45 percent of the kindergarten through fifth-grade students lack English skills, and 87 percent qualify for free or reduced-price lunches. "I've spent my entire career working with at-risk kids," said Spearmon, who was born in Miami and reared by a mother who worked as a hotel maid and a stepfather who was a gardener.

Entering a fourth-grade classroom, where kids sat in a small cluster on the carpet, Spearmon began to orate. He talked of Leonard Flynn being No. 1. Of a school of leaders. Of high expectations. A new era.

Turning to the kids, he demanded, "You're telling yourself what?"

A student replied, "That I'm hungry."

Breaking into laughter, Spearmon said, "I'll see what I can do about getting you some food."

In another class, after calling on students to be leaders and No. 1, he laid down a few rules. Boys and girls should wear uniforms: black pants, white or green shirt or jumper. "There will be no sagging," he said, eyeing the kids. "Sagging is when you wear your pants way low so you can see your underwear. I know it's the style in some places, but not here.

"Do you know where sagging came from?" Spearmon asked.

An arm shot up. "Gang-related places," said a girl in a plaid jumper. Spearmon nodded approvingly.

Such is the challenge of urban school leaders. While trying to reform curricula and attitudes, they must feed and clothe kids, tie floppy shoelaces and hound students to sit up straight and arrive on time.

They must also work well with parents, teachers and district officials, respond to the public's demand for improved test scores and adapt to California's dizzying flow of education reforms.

The added pressure comes at a critical time. As the elementary age population continues to surge and classes remain small, more than 80 percent of California's 7,800 principals are older than 45 and approaching retirement age, which is 55, according to the state Department of Education. Hundreds of new principals will be needed in the next 10 years, the state education department says.

And while the job makes weighty demands with up to 80-hour weeks, the pay - especially when compared to that of managers with similar responsibilities - is mediocre, generally ranging from $63,000 to $75,000 a year.

"You don't become a teacher or a principal because of the money, that's for sure," said Spearmon. "Instead of making more money, you get a lot of hugs."

School secretary Martha Munoz, who has worked under five principals, said the critical qualities for a school leader are "a love for children and an ability to be organized." Judging from her first day with the new boss, Munoz said, "I think he's going to make it. He sure loves the kids." &lt;